Shades of Love
by chococsi
Summary: Originally supposed to be a oneshot, but now I have decided to make it a multichapter story. Starts out FL, will most likely end up as DL. Danny gets jealous, as always.
1. Chapter 1

Something was going on in the world of Donald Flack, Jr. Danny couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly, but something was weird with his friend – and the fuzz surrounding the whole thing was driving him crazy.

Over the years of working as a CSI, he had seen the various detectives assigned to the different cases walk in and out of the numerous labs, but only for a little while. They would find the person who they needed to talk to, would engage them in the obligatory conversation, and then leave. To all appearances (and in this case they weren't deceiving), the detectives would prefer to never have to enter the CSI labs for any reason if they could.

Yet Detective Flack seemed to spend most of his free time there.

Of course he had been there a lot before the "difference" (as Danny had taken to calling it in his head). He had many friends there, and would often stop mid-day to see if any of the CSIs were free for lunch (which they usually weren't). Many times he would walk by the break room to find Flack entertaining Stella or Aiden with one of his many tales of crazy perps over a quick cup of coffee. But now, the amount of time the detective's smiling face was seen around the halls of the crime lab was about to rival his own.

Danny had taken to watching the older man whenever he was around him ever since he had realized something was off. At first he had thought that it might have been the haircut. But as time passed and he grew used to the shorter 'do, something still felt different.

If he had to guess, he would have said that it had started after Aiden had left, though he really be one hundred percent sure of his perceived timeline. Although, and he might have imagined the whole thing, right after the brunette had been fired, there had been a short period of time in which Flack steered clear of some of the labs as much as he could.

Danny shook his head as he turned his attention back to his paperwork with a sigh. Maybe he was wrong about his friend. How much did he really know about the situation, if you could call the whole thing a situation, anyways? All he did know for certain was that Flack was finding more and more excuses to stick around the crime lab, even if that meant offering his assistance to Mac doing various tasks that any intern could have done.

Sighing again, he removed his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. This was going to bug him until he figured it out. Which he would. He wasn't a CSI for nothing.

* * *

"This isn't going to work if you keep moving!"

"Well, I'm sorry."

Danny backtracked a few steps to the reconstruction lab he had just passed as two very familiar voices caught his attention. As he peered into the large room, he saw Lindsay's back as she looked like she was talking to . . . a wall? A talking wall?

Entirely confused, he walked into the room. "What are you doin', Montana?"

Her head turned to grace him with a look of frustration. "What does it look like, Messer? I'm trying to recreate the crime scene." She took a step back and Danny had to hold back a laugh at the sight before him.

Flack was flat against the wall, his arms spread apart and slightly above his head as they were tied to the wall behind him with rope. His hands were covered with the requisite latex gloves and he had stripped down to a white tank top.

"How ya hangin' in there, buddy?" Danny teased him.

"Bite me, Messer."

Lindsay tried to speak over Danny's laughter. "We're trying to recreate the circumstances of the victim's death, _Danny_," she explained, stressing his name to get him to be quiet. "Mac had to run to court, so Flack here volunteered to help." She turned to look at the detective in question and he flashed her a big smile, a gesture that Danny did not miss.

Seemingly innocuous details from the past few months were rapidly falling into place, as if the puzzle pieces were falling into position on their own. He was still missing a few bits from the whole picture though . . .

He cleared his throat and tried to clear his head. "So how exactly does treating Donny here" (Flack glared at the use of the special nickname) "like some sort of sex slave help with your case?" A wave of emotion washed over him, and he couldn't quite figure out what that emotion was.

As she moved over to the table a few feet away, she began to enlighten Danny on the procedure. "We think the second victim was tied up in the same fashion as Don is right now." She grabbed a bucket of what appeared to be red paint and a knife out of the rows of tools lying on the table and moved to stand in front of Flack. "We need to match the cast off pattern from the first victim to a specific weapon and position." She turned slightly to the other CSI. "Would you mind working the camera?" she asked sweetly and granted him a smile.

Whatever it was that caused him to fall prey to that innocent grin, he may never know. But Danny did as she asked and reached for the camera on the corner of the table and snapped off a few 'before' pictures. He hadn't missed the use of Flack's first name that seemed entirely too personal for someone who had only been at the lab for a matter of months. Another puzzle piece fell into place as he moved around Lindsay to the other side to take a few more pictures.

"Okay," Lindsay began and looked down at her feet as she took a deep breath. She glanced up at Flack and caught his eye. He sent her a reassuring look with a smile. "Let's get started."

* * *

The entire process took about forty-five minutes to complete. Mac and Lindsay had narrowed down the possible weapon to four choices beforehand, but the reconstruction had involved a number of steps that had to be done very carefully.

First, she would dip the edge of the tool into the red paint and would move it in an arc as if it was being used as the murder weapon. The paint would move off of the blade to create a cast-off pattern on Flack's white shirt, which Danny would then photograph a couple of times from different angles.

They would then untie him and have him (very slowly) remove the shirt and put on another, identical tank top. And while Flack seemed to have no qualms about being shirtless in front of Lindsay, Danny was growing very uncomfortable about the whole idea as the fuzz started to fade.

As Lindsay laid the last shirt across one of the tables, Danny snuck a glance at her face. If he wasn't mistaken (it had happened before), a grin was threatening to break free across her features. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Flack approaching them as he pulled on his shirt and buttoned it up.

"Hey Lindsay," Flack called to her. She turned around quickly and smiled. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure," she agreed and began to move over to the doorway where he stood, turning back a second later. "Danny?"

He looked up. "Yeah?" _Oh, that didn't sound eager at all. What's wrong with you, Messer?_

"Can you finish up with the pictures for me? I'll clean up once you're done." There was that smile again.

Danny nodded his agreement and moved as if to look through the camera when all he was really doing was watching the couple while pretending to be working. He tried telling himself that he was being stupid. Really, was it really worth it to get all worked up over it . . . whatever _it_ was? But he just told himself to be quiet, because she was starting to speak.

"Something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong. I just want to apologize for moving so much while you were . . . working."

She shrugged. "It wasn't a bother. Don't worry about it."

"No, but I want to make it up to you. And I know just how I can do that."

"How?"

He really didn't like that look on Flack's face. In fact, he had only seen that look once before, when they had gotten hammered at a bar after a really tough case and Flack had tried hitting on this girl who . . . no. No way. No way in fucking he-

"You wanna grab a bite to eat after shift today? Maybe catch a movie?"

An enthusiastic smile spread slowly across her face. "Sure. I'd love that."

His face mirrored hers as he lightly grabbed her hand and added, "I love that you'd love that."

A light blush was coloring her face as they stood silently for a moment looking at each other, while her hand still rested in his. Danny cleared his throat. Loudly.

They broke apart and Flack headed for the door. "I'll see you later then, Linds." He walked out and headed towards the elevator, throwing a 'see ya later, Messer' over his shoulder.

From the self-contented way he was walking, Danny thought that the detective should have been whistling. How had he missed that? All the extra time Flack had been spending in the lab was to be near Lindsay? The timing made sense now, seeing as how it had started after Aiden was gone. _When Montana had taken her place . . . _

That's all he had seen her as at first, as a replacement for one of his best friends. And evidently his other best friend didn't feel the same way about the newest CSI. What was he going to do about this? And why did he feel he needed to do anything about it at all?

* * *

"Danny, what time is it?"

"Where's your watch, Montana?"

"In my locker."

"Now how does it do you any good all the way in there?"

"I took it off to do the procedure earlier. Now can you just tell me what time it is already?"

"It's past six," Flack answered her as he strode into the trace lab where they were working. He was already wearing his heavier coat and gloves and looking like a kid on Christmas morning. "Shift's over. You ready to go?"

Lindsay glanced at Danny over at the microscope. "You need anything from me before I go? This case isn't getting any breaks at the moment."

Danny seriously considered telling her that he needed her help and that she couldn't go just yet. But what would that accomplish? And what could he possibly draw together in a few minutes to have her assist him with? At least he knew when he was beat. Not trusting his voice, he shook his head and quickly turned his focus back onto the evidence in front of him.

Not that he didn't notice the way Flack's eyes trailed up and down Lindsay's body as she stretched and pulled off her lab coat. And not that he didn't notice how Flack offered his arm to Lindsay as she walked to the door. And not that he didn't see the way Lindsay's face glowed as she gladly took the proffered arm as they headed towards the locker room.

He was really beat.

* * *

"I can't believe that's what people think cops are like!"

"You can't believe it? I'm the one with a family full of cops! These movie people should come to me if they want to know what real cops are really like."

Lindsay giggled as she moved closer to Flack. It was snowing, and he had decided to walk her back to her place rather than calling a cab. They were almost there, just a few buildings down, but already she was beginning to feel the effects of the cold. As if he was reading her mind, he wrapped his arm around her smaller frame and pulled her closer.

"What? You don't believe me?" Flack purposely tried to make his voice sound hurt, but only succeeded in making her laugh harder. "I'll have you know that I am an expert on the NYPD."

"That I can believe," she told him as they stopped in front of her building. "It's just that . . ."

"Just that . . . what?" he asked her as she trailed off.

Lindsay lifted her head to look directly into his eyes. "I doubt that all cops have eyes like yours, or spend as much time on their hair as you do." She reached up to ruffle his hair but he caught her hand and pulled it against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her nearer.

"I'll have you know, sweetheart, that I spend less time on my hair than Danny does on his." He leaned his head down. When his lips were a few inches from hers, he asked, "And you know what?"

"What?" she replied in kind, her breath warm on his lips.

"I doubt that all CSIs in Montana are as gorgeous and intelligent as you."

And with that, he swiftly closed the gap between them and pressed his lips softly to hers. As he felt her responding, he deepened the kiss, lightly licking her lips until she opened her mouth.

The kiss grew more passionate as their tongues battled and their mouths meshed together. After a few minutes, Flack reluctantly pulled back. He rested his forehead against hers and took a deep breath.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he breathed out, his words seemingly floating with the vapor on the cold air in front of him. He leaned back in for a light peck.

"I have a good idea," she said as she closed the space once more before grudgingly pulling out of his embrace and walking towards her door. "I'll see you tomorrow, Don."

"Yeah. Bye Linds." Flack stood and watched her until she disappeared from sight up the stairs, then waited until he saw a light turn on until he walked off down the street.

And this time he did whistle.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

"Is there something on my face?"

"What?"

"I said is there something on my face? Cuz' you've been staring at me ever since I got back from lunch."

Danny quickly turned around so that he was facing away from Lindsay as he realized that that was exactly what he had been doing. "No, there's nothing wrong with your face. I- I mean . . . never mind. I'm just zoning out. Didn't sleep well last night."

"Oh? Why not?" she questioned him as she moved over to the microscope

_Cuz' you were out with Flack doing who knows what . . ._

"My, uh, heater broke. Too damn freezing at home."

She shot him a grin. "Really? Would of thought that you would have someone there to help keep you warm."

"Haha, Lindsay. Real funny."

"Okay," she shrugged and focused on the trace evidence she was working on. Danny sighed quietly and tried to do the same but could not keep his mind from wandering.

As his hands went through the motions of the procedure (he could do this in his sleep if he needed to), he grudgingly allowed his mind to show him things he didn't want to see.

* * *

_**Earlier that morning . . .**_

"_Mornin' Danny," Flack said cheerfully as he walked into the DNA lab._

"_Hey," he replied, barely even turning his head from the results he was looking at. One of the techs glanced at the detective and handed him a file similar to the one Danny was holding._

_Flack thanked her and watched her walk away with a smile. "I don't know how you do it, Danny."_

"_What? Be better than you in every single way? Just natural talent, man."_

_He laughed. "How do you work in this lab with all these cuties and not try to get some?"_

_Danny froze mid-sentence and shot Flack a confused look. "Okay, one – I don't consider the people I work with to be 'cuties'. And-"_

"_You don't think Stella's attractive?" he cut in._

"_Of course I do. But she freakin' scares me, man."_

"_And Lindsay?"_

"_She's . . . well, she's . . . new. I don't really know about her yet."_

"_Oh, gimme a break. She's not that new. And obviously you didn't see her in those jeans she wore a couple of weeks ago."_

"_What are you talking about? I saw those jeans, I think, but my mind was on the case. My job isn't to pay attention to what my co-workers are wearing." He paused, looked around, and moved closer to his friend. "And I thought you went out with her last night."_

_Flack's grin grew wider. "Yep. And let me tell you – that woman knows what she's doing."_

_Danny's eyes grew wide. "You slept with her?" An unfamiliar surge of protectiveness rushed through him as he tried to figure out just why that bothered him so much, and why it bothered him that it bothered him (oh god, he was even confusing himself now)._

"_I can assure you, buddy, that there was no sleeping involved. See ya, Messer." And with that blunt sentiment, he was gone, leaving Danny alone with his conflicting thoughts.

* * *

_

He really didn't want to think about it. It wasn't right for him to be thinking about how good Lindsay wa- or why she- or how Flack got her to-

Damnit.

He didn't think that she was even like that. Guess there was more for him to learn about her. Not that he had a chance now.

Wait! What the hell was he thinking?

_This was not happening . . .

* * *

_

Lindsay was confused.

Ever since she had left to go to lunch with Flack, Danny had been ignoring her.

No, not ignoring her. Because throughout the afternoon she had caught him staring at her with an expression on his face that she couldn't quite place. It was driving her nuts trying to figure it out, and trying to understand just what she had done.

She sighed and threw down her pen with a grunt of frustration. She looked at the clock and groaned. It was late. Way too late, in her opinion, to be going over the same reports she had that morning. She was going to go home and sleep, she decided.

* * *

As she walked into the locker room, she could see someone sitting on the bench banging their head slightly against the locker in front of them. She got closer and realized with a smirk that the person trying to bash their own brains out was none other than Danny Messer.

"You're going to leave a mark if you keep doing that, and I'd hate to have to ruin something so pretty."

"Nice to know that you think I'm pretty, Montana."

"I was talking about the locker."

He grumbled something unintelligible without lifting his head up as Lindsay sat on the bench next to him, genuine concern etched across her face. She put her hand on his shoulder and was about to say something when he jumped up and away from her.

"What the hell, Danny?"

He furiously shook his head. "I don't know, I just . . . just-"

"Just what? You've been avoiding me all day, yet staring at me when you thought I wasn't looking, and now you act like me touching you will burn you or something." He opened his mouth as if to protest, but she cut him off, standing up and stepping closer to him. "You're going to tell me what's going on. Right now."

Danny took a deep breath. This wasn't going to be easy.

TBC

A/N: Yes, I know, it's not the greatest, and I did make Flack out to be kind of an ass, but I had to for the sake of the story. Don't worry, I still love you Donny dear. (I'm such a dork . . . :) )


	3. Chapter 3

Danny was about to open his mouth to answer her when Mac knocked on the open door and walked in.

"Danny, I need to speak with you for a moment." He looked entirely serious and dead tired; Lindsay knew not to mess with him. She backed away from the lockers and moved through the doorway, throwing a quiet 'bye' over her shoulder as she grabbed her jacket.

* * *

"Hey Linds," Flack said cheerfully as he caught up with her outside the locker room. "Did it work?"

She shot him a confused look. "Did what work?"

"Mac."

"You sent Mac in there? Why?" she asked incredulously as she stopped walking and turned to face him, her arms crossed loosely over her chest.

He mimicked her actions and looked down at her with an amused expression. "Lindsay, Lindsay, Lindsay," he scolded her playfully. "If I'm good at one thing, it's knowing how my friends are going to act when placed in certain situations. And that-" he uncrossed his arms and gestured towards the room Mac was currently leaving "-was not a situation that would have ended well."

Lindsay frowned and was about to say something when Flack leaned down and kissed her, effectively cutting her off. As he pulled back and his hands snacked around her waist, she asked, "What was that for?"

Flack grinned and moved his head a tiny bit to indicate Danny's presence at the end of the hall. "He's watching us. Figured we might as well give him a show. Plus it shut you up, didn't it?"

Smacking his arm playfully and pulling away towards the elevator, she grinned widely and laughed. "Okay, smart guy. If you know so much about how your friends act, perhaps you can tell me how my brother's going to react when he comes in tonight."

"That's tonight?"

"And you're going to have so much fun telling him about our little plan here."

"I thought you told him!"

She slipped her arm around him with a laugh as the elevator doors closed. "C'mon, sweetie. I'll make you your last meal when we get home."

He sighed dramatically and pouted. "The things I do to help my friends . . . hey! Can we have pizza?"

* * *

This wasn't fair. Just not fucking fair. And what was even worse – he didn't understand any of it.

To tell the truth, he was glad Mac had prevented him from answering Lindsay (even if it was to tell him that he needed Danny to come in on his day off the next day).

But then he had to walk out and see Flack and Lindsay . . . _together_ in the hallway. Couldn't they get a room for that?

Danny sighed and looked out the window. He really needed to get some sleep.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

"What did you want to eat exactly?" Lindsay asked as she pushed the cart down the aisle of the market.

"I'm not sure," Flack answered absent-mindedly as he pulled various items off the shelves and tossed them carelessly into the moving cart.

She caught his wrist as he grabbed a carton of eggs and looked pointedly at the growing pile of groceries. "I'm not paying for all of that myself."

"Uh-huh."

"I'm serious, Donny." She walked around to the back of the cart and rifled through the various items. "I don't even eat Lucky Charms. _You_ don't even eat Lucky Charms."

"Uh-huh."

"I'm going to go grab some dog food for dinner, kay?"

"Uh-huh."

She smacked the back of his head. "C'mon, Donny. Wake up! What's wrong?"

Shaking his head, he grabbed the cart and maneuvered it onto the next aisle. "I don't know Linds. I just get the feeling that somehow I'm going to get beat up over all of this."

* * *

Danny had arrived home that night expecting to be able to fix him a quick dinner and then fall asleep before his frazzled mind caught up with him. The scene with Lindsay in the locker room had done quite a number on his nerves and he wanted nothing more than to laugh the whole thing away.

His fridge, however, seemed to want to condemn him to a hell he couldn't even imagine.

How was he supposed to remember that _yesterday_ was his market day? (And yes, he had a market day. It made things a whole lot easier and—wait. Why was he explaining this to _himself_?)

There he was, standing in the market down the street from his apartment, contemplating the difference between the name brand and the generic brand (it was just tomato sauce!), when a familiar voice on the next aisle broke his thoughts.

"I don't know Linds. I just get the feeling the somehow I'm going to get beat up over all of this."

Lindsay's soft laughter filled his ears, and he paused, soaking it in and mentally cataloguing it for later. He darted around the corner at the last minute as the happy couple moved into the aisle. Peering through the shelves at his friends, he thought _maybe I could figure out how serious they are_.

* * *

"Don't laugh at me!" _Kind of hard not to, sometimes . . ._

"I'm sorry, Ducky." _Ducky?_

"Don't call me that."

"I've been calling you that for years. You never had a problem with it before." _How the hell can she have been calling him that for years when she met him a few months ago?_

"I wasn't a detective in the NYPD before, dear." _Oh, brother . . ._

She reached out a hand and patted him on the back. "Aww . . . you poor baby," she cooed with a smile on her face.

He shrugged her hand off and tried to hide the grin fighting to break out onto his own face. "I knew I never should have taken you to see all those Disney movies," he mumbled. _Disney? Oh . . . Donald Duck. Ducky. Haha._ He would have to use that against Flack somehow later. _But wait, how—_

"It's not like I wanted to go to all those movies. You and Bobby just wanted me out of your hair while you two stood outside and tried to pick up girls." _Who the hell was Bobby?_

"Like there were any girls to be 'picked up' in Bozeman." _Nice one, stupid._ Danny heard, rather than saw, Lindsay smack Flack's arm. "Ow! Except you, of course." _That wasn't a good save at all. I've really got some things to teach you, my friend. But when was he ever in Bozeman?_

She laughed suddenly and announced, "We should get going. Bobby's flight comes in at ten." They walked over to the checkout lane and Danny slipped around to hide behind the bread rack.

_What the hell was going on? Hey, is that French bread fresh? . . ._

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N:** Just for the record, I do know that Anna Belknap who plays Lindsay is older than Eddie Cahill who plays Flack. But for the sake of the story, I needed to make her younger. I think that she looks younger on the show anyways. I hope you'll forgive me for this little switch.  Oh, and sorry that this took so long for me to update. I've got _a lot_ of fics in the works, so hopefully you'll forgive me for that as well. __ _

_And in case anyone doesn't get the 'Arto' reference, Arto Lindsay had a band in the 70s- 80s called _DNA_. I thought it was cute . . ._

* * *

"One way or another, I'm gonna find ya, I'm gonna getcha, getcha, getcha," Lindsay sang along with the radio as she spun around the kitchen. Bags from the market sat on the counter in various states of being unpacked.

Traffic wasn't so great that night (even for New York) so Flack had left a bit early for the airport. They had decided to eat dinner with her brother when they got back.

As she began chopping some things for a salad, she thought back to the night when she and Flack had had their first "date". Everything had been planned down to a T. Danny was a CSI, and (hopefully) a very jealous man when motivated properly. Neither would put it past him to have followed them that night, or to ask one of her "neighbors" how they had acted while saying goodbye.

The building Flack had dropped her off at was that of one of their mutual friends from the precinct. Lindsay had hid out there for a few hours, and then headed back to the apartment she shared with the detective.

Everything that night had gone so well. She just hoped that everything else would go the same way.

* * *

Danny had no idea what the hell he was doing. What possible reason could he have for standing outside of Flack's apartment building at – he looked at his watch – nine at night?

He had to have had one earlier – why else would he be there in the first place. Too bad he couldn't remember what it was.

Might as well go up and at least say hi, since he was there anyway.

* * *

Lindsay got off the phone with Flack and reached for the door to the fridge, humming softly to herself. As she grabbed the package of chicken and straightened up, the doorbell rang.

"Just a second!" she called out, wiping her hands on her jeans.

She pulled the door open and came face to face with the one person she probably shouldn't be standing in an apartment doorway with. "Danny?"

"Lindsay?"

* * *

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, his eyes wide in surprise.

"I live here." _They live together already? I didn't think it was going _that_ fast._

"Oh."

"Yup."

Unlike the silences that normally fell between them while they were working, the quiet they were experiencing at that moment was uncomfortable. Lindsay was never one for clichés, but the only way she could describe the tension in the air was with that stupid knife-cutting metaphor. What the hell was he doing to her, anyways? She was the one who was supposed to be doing things to him . . . no. Not good to go down that road again.

"So what are you doing here?"

* * *

Danny broke out of his thoughts with a jerk of his head. "Huh?"

"Is there a specific reason you're standing at my door well after shift is over or are you just here to ruin my doormat?" He glanced down and noticed that he was dripping water all over the floor. _Since when had it started raining?_

"I . . . uh, I actually came here to see Flack."

Oh. That would make more sense.

"He's . . . not here right now. He'll be back in about an hour if you want to—"

"Nah. That's alright. I'll just see 'im tomorrow. Let 'im know I stopped by?"

"Of course." He started to turn around, but she shot out her hand and grabbed his arm to hold him back. "At least take an umbrella."

The heat from her hand was unbelievably intense even through his soaked jacket – it surprised him so much that it didn't register that she was shoving Flack's favorite umbrella into his hands until she had let go.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Danny," she said quietly as she slowly shut the door. That was _too_ close.

* * *

"I really appreciate you givin' my lil sis' a place to live, Donny," Robert Monroe told Flack yet again as they lugged his two suitcases up the three flights to the apartment. He had an accent that was much stranger and much more pronounced than Lindsay's (probably from hanging out with a native New Yorker every summer for thirteen years).

"For the fourth time, Bobby, I told ya – t'was no problem for 'lil ol' me'. She doesn't listen to that country crap that you do." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys as they reached the third floor landing.

"Yeah, that's just cuz you gave her that mix tape for her sixteenth birthday. She still has it, you know. And why didn't you tell me it was going to rain?" He shook his arms at Flack, spraying his already wet figure with even more water.

Flack shoved Bobby in the arm. "Cuz I didn't know, ya nut." Grinning childishly, he unlocked the door, pushed it open, and called out, "Hey, Arto!"

"I don't know how many times I've asked you . . ." Lindsay began as she sauntered out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a green dishtowel, but upon catching sight of her brother, she trailed off and ran towards him. "Bobby!" she yelled, throwing herself into his arms.

The siblings hugged for a moment as the detective stood off to the side and watched with a smile on his face. When they pulled apart, he scoffed jokingly, "Geez, Bob. I didn't even get that kind of response when I picked her up at the airport."

Lindsay smacked his arm and dragged them both to the table where she could see them from the kitchen. As Flack extricated himself from her grasp and turned back to move the luggage inside and close the door, she removed her brother's coat and ran to fetch him a towel. "So – spill; where's the dirt in Bozeman now?" she asked excitedly as soon as they were both dry and seated and she was in the kitchen finishing up their dinner.

"Still on the ground as usual," Bobby replied casually as he sipped the beer she had given him. "There's not much to tell. Everything's pretty much the same since you left, Linds."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Oh! The Millers had a baby girl!"

* * *

Flack had no idea who the Millers were, so it was a safe bet that tuning the reminiscing pair out would make no difference, seeing as how he could care less. As he sipped his own beer, a towel draped round his neck to catch the water dripping off of his messy hair, he studied them. While Bobby had more signs of age on his face, and Lindsay had lost some of her natural tan from Montana summers, the two looked more alike than either of them would ever care to admit. He had grown to notice that many of their gestures and habits were similar as well.

Who would have known that at five years old, a dreaded trip to his great-grandparents' home in Bozeman would have turned into one of the most important times of his life? He had gone to the unknown state expecting to spend all of his time playing in their huge backyard or inside watching their ancient TV. The day when he kicked his soccer ball over the next door neighbor's fence and met Bobby Monroe and his little sister Lindsay when he went over there to retrieve it (as per his parent's request) was one of the best days of his life since.

He laughed as he remembered the look on his parent's face at the end of that summer when he requested if he could return there the following summer, and the ones after that (it was only when his great-grandparents passed away when he was eighteen that he stopped traveling there when he could; he still kept in touch regularly, though, through phone calls, letters, and later on, emails).

* * *

They stopped talking at the sound of his laugh and turned to look at him. He raised his eyes to hers and asked, "What?"

She just laughed and shrugged it off, turning back to her work. Less than a minute later, she turned back to him and said randomly, "You'll never guess who stopped by while you were out."

"Danny," he replied without even blinking.

Lindsay seemed shocked. "How did you know?"

"Who else would matter enough for you to tell me?" This seemed reasonable to her, but her brother was a different story.

"Who's Danny?" he asked warily. He knew he wasn't going to like the sounds of this from the looks on their faces. "Okay. Out with it. The whole story, right now."

Flack looked to Lindsay for help but her eyes were fixed firmly to the pot simmering on the stove. _Guess I'm on my own for this one . . ._

"It all started like this . . ."

TBC


End file.
